Seasons by the Sea: Don’t Be a Dodgy Spalpeen!
St. Patrick’s Day has turned into a silly affair in this country. What began as a religious holiday in Ireland has morphed into an excuse to get buckled, fluthered, ossified, scuttered, and stocious on green beer. There, you just learned some Irish slang for getting drunk. Needless to say, my people have a lot of terms for this national pastime.
I am mostly Irish (Murphy, Donnelly . . . duh!), with a good bit of Norwegian from my grandmother (Wiborg). When we were growing up, our father made sure we were aware of the prejudice against Irish immigrants in America. We didn’t eat a lot of Irish-style foods, except for corned beef and cabbage with potatoes on St. Patrick’s Day. Which gives me another factoid to clear up. The Irish never ate corned beef and cabbage on this holiday until they came to America. Since the fatty bacon they were used to was too expensive or not even available, the Jewish butchers on the Lower East Side offered corned beef as a substitute. Corned beef and cabbage is British, as was St. Patrick. And he didn’t chase snakes out of the country, either; there were no snakes on the Emerald Isle.
If you want to prepare a meal for St. Patrick’s Day that is more true to the roots of that country, a simple baked salmon served with colcannon (mashed potatoes with sautéed onions and kale), some Irish soda bread, and perhaps an Irish cheese — cheddar or Cashel blue — could be on your menu. Any kind of lamb would be authentic as well.
At the Ballymaloe Cookery School in Shanagarry, County Cork, a recent St. Paddy’s Day menu was fried lamb belly fingers, slow poached chicken with tarragon, colcannon, roasted carrots, and herbed Irish cheddar croquettes. Not exactly diet food, but certainly more tasty than corned beef and cabbage, right?
I went to Ireland 25 years ago and was disappointed in the food: a continual round of smoked salmon, brown bread, butter, and Guinness stout. But a more recent trip for a wedding revealed a serious food revolution, especially in Dublin. We had the best mussels ever in Kinsale, a resort and fishing town very similar to Long Island’s East End. But the wedding itself revealed how backwards some parts of the country still are. As this was a hippie-heavy event (Donovan performed), the bride and groom requested vegetarian options for many of the guests. It was literally potatoes five ways, and nothing else. This cracked me up, although it’s a bit sad in retrospect.
One of my favorite cookbooks is Cathal Armstrong’s “My Irish Table.” He grew up in Dublin where his mum was a renowned baker and his da had a garden and did most of the cooking. Cathal now has a number of restaurants and bars in Alexandria, Va., the most famous of which is Restaurant Eve. Every time I visit, I go see Cathal and tell him what I’ve cooked from his book. He always asks, “Did the recipe work for you? We really struggled with that one!” It’s true, some of the measurements are off, as is often the case when a restaurant chef tries to reduce quantities for the home cook. But his soda bread is simple perfection and the Cashel blue cheese and toasted pecan terrine with apple jam and frisee salad is one of the best flavor and texture combinations I have ever tried.
In Ireland, St. Patrick’s Day is still considered a religious holiday observed with reverence and solemnity. No dyeing rivers green like in Chicago, no green bagels. As a matter of fact, most of the pubs are closed. The holiday falls in the middle of Lent, when many people are fasting or abstaining. But on this day, after going to Mass, families gather to celebrate and feast on leg of lamb or roast prime rib or a whole baked salmon. So don’t be a dodgy spalpeen, celebrate responsibly and deliciously. Slainte!
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